Halloween 2018
by alynwa
Summary: Individual tales leading up to Halloween.
1. Adrift in a Nightmare

Napoleon, Illya and the Strike Team out of Miami were on the deck of the converted cruise ship. He signaled for Illya to take half the team to search the starboard side while he led the search on the port side. Both groups went door to door, checking and clearing each cabin and passageway they encountered as they moved forward, eventually meeting at the bow.

The Russian shrugged his squad's failure to find anyone and received an answering shrug from Napoleon. Silently, the CEA pointed upwards towards the bridge and the group split in two again to approach the room where the captain and his officers must surely be in order to steer the ship.

Napoleon frowned as he dared to glance inside. There was no one there. He straightened up and entered the room to look around. "Clear!" he called and both his and his partner's squads joined him.

"How is this possible?" Illya asked.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Sirs?" One of the newest agents, Ted Smith, had spoken. "At Survival School, one of the instructors said there is technology out there now that allows a ship to be steered from below deck."

"Let's check it out," Napoleon said as he turned to lead the way.

A thorough search of the cabins, engine rooms and storage areas revealed nothing. There was only one place left to check: The main dining room. Napoleon led the way inside. "Look at this," he gasped. The tables all looked like people had left in the middle of their meal; knocked over chairs, half – eaten food, glasses of beer, milk and other beverages half – drunk as if something had interrupted them and caused a stampede. "What do you think happened, Tovarisch?" He turned back to look at his partner when no answer was forthcoming and dropped his gun in shock.

He was alone. Including him and Illya, sixteen men had walked into the dining room. The first stirrings of panic began to grow in his stomach. As he reached for his communicator, his hands began to tremble and he felt as if the room was getting colder. "Open Channel D! Emergency!" Static was his only answer.

Horrified, he realized he could see his breath. _It is getting colder!_ The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end as he started to sense a presence. Somehow, some _thing_ has managed to snatch fifteen men from behind him in the blink of an eye and he felt it coming for him, now.

As he turned to run, he felt a hand (he _hoped_ it was a hand) on his shoulder. He whipped around prepared to fight and screamed in terror at the sight before him.

" _Napoleon!_ "

His eyes snapped open as he sat bolt upright in bed. He was disoriented for a few seconds when he didn't recognize his surroundings immediately. His gaze settled on the source of the voice and he relaxed. "Nurse Patty, you don't know how glad I am to see you." He looked at the empty chair in the corner. "Where's my partner?"

"He just left to get coffee from the Commissary. I'm glad he wasn't here to hear you scream. That drug cocktail you got fed at that Jersey satrap is sure taking its sweet time working its way out of your system. It's been three days!"

Just then, Illya entered the room sipping from a cup. "Oh good, you are awake. I can stop reading to you. My throat was drying out."

Napoleon laid back against his pillow. "What were you reading?"

"A book about the _Mary Celeste._ "

The CEA shivered. "Do me a favor. Next time you want to read to me, make it Dr. Seuss."

 **A/N:** Mary Celeste was an American merchant brigantine, discovered adrift and deserted in the Atlantic Ocean, off the Azores Islands, on 5 December 1872.


	2. Ghoulish

Strapped down, unable to move and stripped down to his skivvies, Mark was feeling vulnerable and helpless. He was wracking his brain trying to remember how he had gotten into this predicament. The last thing he could recall was being out to dinner with April. They had gone to Greenpoint and gotten some really amazing Polish food. They had caught a cab back to Manhattan with the plan that April would be dropped off first and then Mark would head on home. _So, how did I get here?_

His captor was a stereotypical mad scientist type: Bozo clown hair, crazy eyes and a maniacal smile. He kept leaning in close to share his stinking breath along with his plans about how he was going to dominate the world. "Get stuffed, Bugger!" he managed to spit out when his tormentor neared.

""Wake up, Darling! What was that?"

"Huh?"

"Really, Mark. You come in to use the bathroom, sit on the couch, pass out and then start hurling insults in your sleep? You're drunk, go get in bed!"

Mark wanted to argue to save face, but he knew that he was unnerved enough to want company while sleeping. "I'm glad we're partners."


	3. Senior Trip

"Why do you keep looking outside, My Dear? There's no one here; my Security Team went over the house and the grounds with a fine – toothed comb when I insisted I wanted complete privacy." Alexander, two glasses of brandy in hand, gazed lovingly at the woman he still thought of as his bride even after more than fifty years of marriage.

Elizabeth Waverly stood at the window overlooking the sheer drop of the cliff on which the mansion rested. She had insisted that her husband accompany her on a vacation to Scotland. "A second honeymoon" she had called it and had laughed with delight when he wrapped her in his arms and reminded her it was more like their thirtieth honeymoon.

"So you've told me, Alexander. Still…" She stopped speaking as she began to stare intently at the fog.

"What the devil are you looking at, Elizabeth?" He was starting to feel uneasy and wanted his wife to move away from the window. He turned to place the glasses on the nightstand and when he turned back, he was shocked and terrified to see that Elizabeth had somehow opened the window and was climbing through it. "Elizabeth!" he screamed as he began to run to grab her.

Nimbly, she ducked away from his reaching arms as she balanced on the ledge. Just before she jumped she said, "Don't worry, Alexander, they said I'll be fine. Just fiiiiiiinnnnneee!" Her last word stretched out as she leapt and disappeared into the mists.

"Nooooooo!"

Waverly sat bolt upright gasping for breath. Turning quickly to his right, the sight of Elizabeth sleeping soundly brought him so much relief he almost wept. Instead, he laid back down and spooned tightly against her. He felt her hand pat his when he put his arm around her waist. "We still have a few hours before we have to leave," she said. "Are you excited about our vacation?"

He trembled slightly. "You could say that. I'm so glad I acquiesced and went along with your wish to take a cruise with your cousin Helen and her husband."

He felt his hand being squeezed. "Thank you for saying that, Alexander. I admit, I _was_ feeling a bit guilty about not wanting to go to Scotland. You seemed to have your heart set on it. I promise: Next vacation will be Scotland."

He could feel himself drifting back to sleep. He gave her one more hug and said, "Don't worry about it, My Love, I am quite over the idea of Scotland."


	4. A Superior Fear

The two nuns stopped in their tracks. The one in front was wearing a cream colored habit. She held her lamp in front of her and said, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Illya gasped, "Please, Sister, I am hurt and I came in here to rest! I was being chased by, chased by…" He stopped speaking and slumped against the hallway wall. He didn't know if the sisters would have heard of THRUSH. "Chased by bad people," he finished lamely.

"Mother Superior doesn't approve of strangers being down here, especially strange men. You will have to go."

The Russian looked past the young woman to the older nun behind her, or at least, who he assumed was older as she was wearing the black and white habit he associated with the Catholic religion. She stood just outside the circle of light emanating from the lamp. _That is why I cannot see her face._ "Mother Superior," he implored, "I promise I will leave as soon as I am able. I just need rest. Please." His plea was met with silence.

"Mother Superior doesn't speak to anyone outside the Order." She looked back at the still silent, unmoving figure. Looking back at Illya she said, "Mother Superior is losing patience. I beg you: Leave now. Go back the way you came. Now."

"But…"

Suddenly, the Mother Superior was in front of the novice, directly in front of him. "You were told to leave twice," she said in a voice that cause chills up and down his spine. "Now you must stay."

He looked into her face and screamed in terror. He turned to run and felt the skin on his back being ripped apart. "NO!" His nails dug into the wall as he struggled to escape.

His eyes popped open just as he heard a noise at his feet. It took a moment for him to realize that he was in his bed. Whipping around to look, he saw Napoleon standing at the end of it. He was still breathing heavily as he flopped onto his back which sent a wave of fresh pain through it.

"That must have been some dream, Illya! Roll over and let me look at your back," he said in his CEA voice and the blond complied immediately. "You've popped about half of your stitches. Come on, let me clean you up and then we're going to Medical to get you fixed up."

"I do not want to return to Medical; I will be fine."

"Then it's a good thing I didn't ask you what you wanted. Mother Fear whipped you to within an inch of your life and you're definitely going to have the scars to prove it, but they'll be really bad if you don't get re – stitched, plus you risk getting an infection without them. And besides, you're bleeding all over your sheets. Get up and get dressed while I strip the bed. I'll put the sheets in the tub with cold water."

The Russian growled in frustration, but he knew his partner was right. If he didn't move soon, his blood would dry and he would be stuck to them. "Fine, but I want to get something to eat afterwards and I do not want any more pain pills. They give me strange dreams."


	5. Dinner Date

They had met on the flight back to New York from Texas. He had told her he was a traveling salesman based out of New York while she had said she was visiting The Big Apple for pleasure.

"Allow me to be your first pleasure: Join me for dinner."

She laughed and replied, "Navaare, your charms know no bounds! I would love to have dinner with you."

Napoleon had taken her for dinner and dancing at Club Twenty – One and a horse drawn carriage ride through Central Park. He escorted her back to the Waldorf Astoria and treated her to a nightcap in the Oak Room. He smiled inwardly to himself when she invited him upstairs so that she could say a proper "Good night."

As soon as they entered her suite, she turned and moved into his arms, pressed her body to his and began to kiss him passionately. He undressed her as they undulated back to the bed.

Stripping off his clothing, he joined her and they began to make sensuous love. Napoleon loved to kiss and apparently so did his paramour. He stretched like a cat when she began to kiss along his neck, moving up to his jawline and then his cheek. He felt his skin tighten a bit as she pulled it with her teeth every once in a while. "Hey, what are you doing?" he said after one particularly long pull.

"Marking you, Navaare, not to worry, I enjoy it and you will, too."

He reached up and gently grabbed her shoulders to move her back from him. "I don't particularly care for giving or receiving hick…" The words died in his throat as her bloody lips came into view. He shoved her off him and jumped out of the bed and raced to the bathroom mirror. He gaped in horror at the places on his face where chunks of his flesh were missing.

"Oh Darling, don't look like that," she cooed, "You taste absolutely scrumptious!" She moved closer to him. He could swear her canine teeth were lengthening.

" _No! Stay away from me! Keep away!"_

He fought awake, breathing heavily and entangled in bed sheets. When he got his breath under control, he laid back down only to jump again at the sound of his partner's voice from the adjoining bed. "Illya! I forgot where I was for a second! Didn't mean to wake you partner; go back to sleep. We have an early flight back to New York tomorrow."

"I am aware. Do you want to talk about your nightmare?"

Napoleon thought about those lips and shivered. "No, Tovarisch. I want you to do something for me, though."

"What?"

"I want to sit by the window on the flight."

"Do you now. Will it not be hard to flirt with the stewardesses and female passengers with me blocking the way?"

"That's the other thing I want you to do: If you see me talking to any woman on that plane other than ordering breakfast, knock me out cold."


End file.
